


On the Other Side of the Sea

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Seasickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6481897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian + Lavellan + sailing the ocean.</p><p> </p><p>Goes about as well as it can go for a Tevinter mage who suffers from seasickness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Other Side of the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Pavellan... I think I'm liking Pavellan more than Adoribull at this point *o*'' I still love my Adoribull but oh gosh Pavellan/Pavelyan/etc help me. My Mahanon is quiet and polite and respectful and so full of love for Dorian I love it.
> 
> *ahem*
> 
> idk if anyone likes it as much as meee but anyway xD
> 
> I do not own _Dragon Age Inquisition_. Thanks for reading~

Mahanon cradled Dorian's head in his lap, stroking nimble fingers through dark, bedraggled hair. The sun was setting somewhere over that unending horizon, yet the elven Inquisitor knew that, despite that, the day was far from being over.

"I'm sorry, amatus," Dorian murmured.

"For being ill?" Mahanon swept a piece of the Tevinter's hair from his forehead. "No apologies necessary. It's not your fault."

"Ungh." Dorian groaned softly, turning his head into Mahanon's tunic. "The _lurching_. Remind me again why we needed to traverse this wretched sea?"

"The tunnels caved in," Mahanon repeated, explaining again, for the umpteenth time, just as calmly as the first. "If the tunnels were still connected, we could have handled it that way. And it would take too much time to walk."

Dorian's shoulders heaved as he sighed.

Needless to say, the Tevinter mage had not taken kindly to the idea that they needed to take a boat to travel across the ocean. Mahanon had offered to let him stay behind, and Dorian, being Dorian, had practically, _selflessly_ , thrown himself onto the boat instead. And he had lasted all of ten minutes from the shore before he was heaving over the side of the boat, and Mahanon had had a reassuring hand on his back as he retched and spit into the murky waters below.

"Get some rest," Mahanon said softly, stroking his knuckles against damp, sweaty skin. "We'll be closer to the Marches when you awaken."

"I might, if I didn't feel like I was going to roll right into the ocean itself."

Mahanon smiled gently. "I can assure you that you will not. I won't allow it."

Dorian laughed quietly, before the tension rolled back into his body, shoulders stiffening, hands constricting into fists around the fabric of Mahanon's clothing.

"Vhenan?"

"You won't call me that when I vomit on your feet," Dorian groaned, pushing himself up.

"I disagree." Mahanon handed him the bucket that had been so _pleasantly_ slammed down in front of them when Dorian hadn't made it as far as the side of the boat earlier. "You were awfully close earlier."

"You were wearing those hideous boots earlier," Dorian croaked, hugging the bucket to his chest. "It's different."

Mahanon shrugged. "You can't help it," he said, nudging his bare toes into Dorian's leg.

Dorian chuckled, and it turned into a low moan when the boat swayed. " _Maker_ help me."

The Inquisitor braced his shoulder against Dorian's, holding him steady if only for a moment. "You're going to be fine."

"Pray tell _when_." Dorian's head fell to lean against the elf's shoulder. His eyes fluttered closed, dark eyelashes caressing dark skin, and Mahanon smiled softly before resting his head against Dorian's.

"When we get off this boat, I'd imagine."

"Ugh."

"Watch out. You're starting to sound like Cassandra."

Dorian laughed once; then threw up. To his credit, he did hit the bucket instead of the Inquisitor's feet.

The groan was pitiful at best, heart-wrenching at worst. Mahanon snaked his arms around Dorian as the mage scrubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, muttering in Tevene under his breath.

"Well, that was horrific," Dorian rasped, setting the bucket aside. "Perhaps I'll be okay for a minute or two." He slumped back against the elf. "Moment's reprieve..."

"Try to get some sleep," Mahanon repeated, and turned his head to kiss at the corner of Dorian's mouth.

Dorian's lips curved into a weary smile. "Is the smell of vomit on my breath off-putting to you, then?"

Mahanon laughed. "I have _some_ boundaries, ma'arlath."

That produced another tired laugh. Dorian turned his face into Mahanon's neck. "Promise me you'll kiss me properly later. All of this torture has to be good for something."

"I'll do more than that later," Mahanon promised, even if his sly little smile went unnoticed by the altus.

Dorian groaned. "Oh, _please_ let this heinous boat ride be over now. There's so much good on the other side of it. If I survive this."

Mahanon pressed his lips against Dorian's hair. "Rest for now, Dorian."

"I'll try," Dorian murmured, shifting around to get comfortable. "I'll look forward to when we dock. Perhaps I'll even dream of it."

"Good dreams, then."

"Yes..." Dorian groped for Mahanon's arm, wrist, fingers sliding down to a scarred palm.

Mahanon intertwined his fingers with Dorian's, and even if neither of them saw the other's ones smile in the half-darkness in the ship, both were aware that they were there.

 


End file.
